Lady in Red
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. The transition from friends to lovers had been a natural one. He'd lost a lot of confidence in the idea of ever having a strong and stable relationship, but with every day that he'd spent with Anna, he'd started to tentatively see a future in it. Until she'd been offered a year away overseas. That had changed everything.


**A/N:** This is not a new fic-it was written in response to **Awesomegreentie** and **Terriejane's** _A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words_ challenge back in July 2016. I have been asked recently to transfer these fics from Tumblr to here for ease of access...so I finally gave in, LOL.

The picture which inspired this was a pair of glittering red heels.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_Lady in Red_

"Come on, mate, you'll enjoy it."

"You're supposed to be the person who knows me better than anyone. Which means that you ought to know that if there's one thing I won't enjoy, it's being dragged to a party."

"But you need to get out and have some fun. You can't mope around forever."

"I'm not moping around."

"You've been moping since the moment Anna left. Which is precisely why you need to get back out there. I know you liked her, but there are plenty of other fish in the sea. You've got to get back in the saddle. It would be a shame to waste yourself. You never hit the bull's eye with the first arrow, that's what they say."

But John felt like he had. He and Anna had been friends first, and her gentle patience had guided them towards smooth waters. The transition from friends to lovers had been a natural one, one as unstoppable as the tide. In his two years of knowing Anna, and in his four months of seeing her, he had felt more secure and serene than in the two and a half decades that he had been with Vera. He'd lost a lot of confidence in the idea of him ever having a strong and stable relationship, but with every day that he'd spent with Anna, he'd started to tentatively see a future in it.

Until she'd been offered a year away overseas. That had changed everything.

She hadn't wanted to take it, of course. She'd been adamant that she would stay right in Yorkshire with him, but he knew how hard she'd been working to get where she wanted to be, right from the moment he'd met her. How could he be responsible for her giving up her dream? He didn't want her to choose between him and her career. So he'd made the decision for the both of them, because he could not allow her to waste all of her potential and hard work on him, a broken down, crippled, alcoholic. She'd argued furiously with him, but that had been that.

In the end, she'd accepted the position out in America, and he hadn't heard from her since. She'd tried to contact him initially, but the thought of hearing her voice and knowing that she was thousands of miles away on the other side of the world broke his heart, and he'd left them unreturned. They'd gradually petered out, until she didn't call at all. Which was good, he told himself every day. It meant that she was moving on and building the life she deserved. She would probably find a handsome American man to marry, all tanned and well-muscled, hair bleached blond by the sun. He'd never been able to understand what she'd seen to fancy in him in the first place.

She'd been out there for four months now, and it hadn't got any easier for him. Every day he woke with the same ache in his heart. Every day his mind wandered to her, and what she might be doing. He'd cut back on smoking while he was with her, but he'd started it again, if only to give him something else to focus on. The only thing getting him through each day was knowing that no matter what she might say, he'd done the best thing for her. And wasn't that what a man was supposed to do for the woman he loved? Do his best by her?

"Bloody hell, Bates, are you listening to a word that I'm saying?"

John came back to the present at the irritation in his friend's voice. Robert was scowling at him.

"I _am _listening. I've told you already: parties aren't for me. I'm really not interested in being stuck around a bunch of drunk people."

"Well, tough. Cora's been planning this for months, and you can't bail out on us now." He hesitated for a moment, before plunging on. "And maybe it's time that you put Anna out of your head for good. She's getting on with her life, and you need to start getting on with yours."

John's heart fluttered. His palms were suddenly very sweaty. "What are you saying?"

Robert debated for another long second before capitulating with a huff and drawing out his phone. "Mary showed me this this morning. Said she'd seen it on Anna's Instagram or something."

John was familiar with the app; while he wouldn't touch social media with a ten foot pole, he knew Anna had a soft spot for it. She'd always been uploading pictures; she'd been fond of snapping photos of him, and there had been countless selfies of the two of them. They'd probably all been wiped now. Out of sight, out of mind. A fresh slate.

His mouth had gone dry, and swallowing was difficult. John took Robert's phone from him and gazed down at the picture before him.

Anna looked beautiful. The American heat clearly suited her; her skin had gone a gentle tan. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and her blonde hair had gone blonder. She was beaming widely.

She had her arm around a dark-skinned, shirtless man, her head nestled close to him. He was smiling widely too. They made an undeniably stunning pair.

The caption underneath read, _Can't thank this guy enough for everything he's done for me!_

John felt sick. He knew he shouldn't. That was what he'd wanted for her. For her to move on and meet someone else.

He just hadn't expected it to happen so soon in their four months apart, and for her to look as happy as she did as quickly. Which made him a bastard, because this was a situation of his own making.

"Well," he said flatly, handing the phone back. He couldn't say anything else. His throat was too tight to form the words.

Robert's voice had gone gentle. "So you're going to come tomorrow night. You're going to come and have a bloody good time, all right?" When it became apparent that John wasn't going to answer, Robert got to his feet. "I'll see you later, mate." He patted him cautiously on the shoulder and made his exit.

John couldn't even summon the energy to say goodbye. All he could do was wait until the front door had clicked closed before leaning forward, burying his face in his hands, and breaking down.

* * *

True to his word, Robert was back at his door the following evening. It was an effort for John to drag himself to the door—even then, he only managed it when the hammering became unbearable.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled. "You'll break it down."

"And you don't look remotely ready. What the hell have you been doing?"

Absolutely nothing was the truthful answer. He hadn't had the energy to shave, couldn't even force himself to shower. He'd tumbled into bed the night before without changing, and still wore the same clothes now. When he'd closed his eyes, he'd dreamed about Anna and her new man. He'd woken in a cold sweat when she'd given him an invitation to her wedding.

_Your fault_, he'd reminded himself fiercely. _She's innocent in all this._

But feelings were irrational and unpredictable, and he couldn't change them. Anger, anguish, confusion. They all swirled around inside him, draining him of what little strength he'd been fighting on with.

"I'm not coming," he told Robert.

"You are. A masquerade ball will be fun. And there will be plenty of eligible women there. Now's your time to move on. It doesn't have to be anything serious, just a shag to get Anna out of your system."

He didn't _want _to shag Anna out of his system. She was the one who had shown him what making love really was, and he didn't want to dishonour the memory of what they'd had by having a quick, dirty fling to eradicate her. Besides, what good would it be when every moment with another woman would be spent comparing her to Anna, or closing his eyes and imagining that he was pinning Anna beneath him? It was dishonest. If there was anything that he'd done in the hard years of his life, it was to be honest.

Or, almost always honest. He hadn't been honest with Anna in the end.

"I don't have anything to wear," he tried now.

"Don't worry about that," said Robert cheerfully. He brought a dry cleaner's bag from behind his back, swishing it dramatically through the air. "I figured that you wouldn't, so I took the liberty of doing it myself."

"I'm _not _wearing something that you've picked out for me. It'll be hideously flamboyant."

"I took note of that too. It's so conservative that even you can't put up a fuss. Now stop trying to come up with ruddy useless excuses, you moody arse, and go and get showered. I'll put the telly on and wait. Cora's expecting us both there in an hour and a half. Chop chop."

John glowered at him, but Robert remained frustratingly cheerful, standing there on his doorstep.

"_Fine," _he growled at length. "But I'm not staying for more than an hour."

"If you say so," said Robert. "Now, come on, invite me in."

John turned on his heel and stalked back inside, leaving Robert to hurry after him and close the door. He snatched the outfit from his friend and stormed upstairs. He dragged his feet for as long as possible over the grooming process.

The suit that Robert had picked out for him was sharp; the crisp white shirt was off-set by a dark black jacket and trousers, coupled with a black bowtie around the neck. A sleek top hat finished the look. It would go well with his cane, Robert had explained, and would make him appear striking. John thought it would make him look stupid, be he wasn't in the mood to argue. At least the mask that Robert had picked out would hide his face, so he would be saved any real embarrassment on that score; outside the Crawley family, he was hardly well known. His cane might draw unwanted attention, but at least he could remain anonymous.

Robert came up to see how he was getting along when the time to leave had neared. He whistled.

"Looking good, Bates," he said. "You'll have the women falling over themselves looking like that."

John had his back turned so he was allowed the luxury of rolling his eyes to the heavens. He supressed the self-deprecating comment that rose. It wasn't worth the argument.

Robert was soon bundling him outside the door and into the taxi that he had called. John had protested that he could drive since he wouldn't be drinking, but Robert wouldn't hear of it.

"You'll only sneak off at the first opportunity that way," he said. "Now stop being so bloody miserable."

John was certain that he wasn't up to that particular task. He spent most of the journey staring out of the window while his best friend wittered on about the day's football results. Even his favourite sport had lost its appeal since Anna had left. _Match of the Day_ wasn't quite the same without her pressed to his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck while they debated Rooney's effectiveness and yet another dire Newcastle performance.

At last, they reached the venue. Downton Abbey was always a cracking place to visit; of course, it helped that Robert and Cora _owned _the estate. It was out in the wilderness of the Yorkshire countryside, several miles from Downton's main little town. They rarely used it, but it was perfect for parties, reeking of class and sophistication. Robert paid the driver and escorted him inside.

Inside, it was almost pitch-black, lit only by flashing lights of greens and blues and yellows and oranges and reds that were more disorientating than illuminating. John blinked.

"How on earth are you meant to see anything?" he asked grumpily.

"That's the whole point," said Robert, as if he was speaking to a very stupid child. "It's a masquerade ball. You're meant to be shrouded in mystery, and take a clandestine lover to bed. It's only in the morning that you get a good look at what you lucked out with."

Back to sex again. John refrained from sighing heavily with the greatest of efforts.

The thumping music that could be heard as soon as he'd stepped foot inside the place only grew louder as they entered the main hall together. A bar had been installed for the night, and couples were already dancing on the dancefloor. It was almost enough to burst his eardrums. He'd probably have a headache within half an hour.

"Oh, don't bloody start again!" Robert said—or, rather, shouted to be heard over the music. "Just get something to drink and find someone to mingle with!"

John couldn't muster the energy to reply. He was dressed in black almost from top to toe. He was sure he could find a corner to disappear into for the majority of the evening, until a convenient time to escape posed itself. Resolved, he made his way over to the bar.

It took three attempts of yelling to finally get his order put through, and he sighed roughly, removing the hat so he could scrub his hands through his hair. He jumped when he felt an unfamiliar hand on his arm. Turning to his left, he came face to face with another masked person. A woman. In the dim lighting, he could tell that she was wearing a revealing red dress and glittering, towering scarlet shoes, her light brown hair tumbling around her shoulders, but that was it. He averted his eyes from her cleavage quickly.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

With the combination of the din of the music and the thundering coming from the rest of the party, it was difficult to hear what she was saying.

"Let me buy that drink for you," she replied.

"Oh, no, there's no need for that."

"Go on, I insist."

He wasn't used to women being so forthright. It was rather disconcerting. "All right. Let me buy you one in return."

She held up a glass of something. "I'm good for the moment. Later."

"Well, thank you." John bobbed his head awkwardly and tapped his fingers restlessly against the bar top while the woman rummaged around in her handbag for the money for his drink. This was the last thing he wanted. Politeness dictated that he needed to linger here for at least a few minutes and make small talk in payment for the drink that she'd purchased for him. But, with how he was feeling, he doubted he would make a very good conversationalist. He might end up _wearing _the drink before too long.

He was grateful when it was slid down the bar to him, snatching it up to take a grateful gulp out of.

"You needed that, eh?" Her tone was amused.

"If only it was whiskey," was his sardonic reply. He was surprised when she didn't ask why he wasn't drinking if he wanted to. Surprised, but grateful. She probably assumed that he was the designated driver. He took another sip. "You never said what your name was."

"Nor will I. It's a masquerade party, remember."

"Touché. What brings you here?"

"I always go to the Crawley's parties."

"One of the girls' friends?"

"Mary's. I think I've seen you around before."

"I'm usually at these functions too. Robert invites me."

It made sense that she'd be one of Mary's friends; the eldest Crawley daughter had an endless supply of them. He couldn't make out enough of her to ascertain whether he'd seen her around before too, but it made little difference. He probably wouldn't have noticed her. When he'd been around Anna, he'd never noticed anyone else.

"Are you from around here, then?" he asked.

"I was. I moved away recently. So of course I couldn't miss the opportunity to come back for a visit. I've someone special to see while I'm here."

Someone special. It seemed like everyone had someone special apart from him. He was soulless now; if he'd lived in the times of the Greeks, he'd be doomed to wander alone along the River Styx for all eternity.

Still, he forced a smile, not sure if she could see it or not. "That's nice."

Silence lapsed for a few seconds, until she broke it.

"So, what do you make of the whole masquerade theme?" she prompted.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to have an opinion on that," he said. "I'm not known for enjoying socialising." He barked out a rueful laugh. "That makes me sound awful."

"No, I can appreciate it. I'm not much of a partyer myself. Though I do think the theme is exciting."

"Robert was going on about meeting someone mysterious and coupling up with them."

"And how does that appeal to you?"

Was she flirting with him? This was the exact situation that he had wanted to avoid. "I can't say it's really my scene. Bit old for that now."

"You're not old," she scolded. "Maybe you just need to experience it."

This time, she dropped her hand to his thigh. The touch was a shock to his whole system, hot and electric. He pulled away abruptly, almost spilling his drink.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me." She lowered her eyes contritely, then raised them again. "Unless you want to…?"

She leaned in closer, until he felt the warm spice of her breath on his lips. His breath caught, and he turned his head sharply.

"What about your someone special?" he ground out.

"We're not together. It's nothing official. What happens tonight has nothing to do with what will happen tomorrow. One meaningless night, isn't that what these parties are all about?"

She leaned in as if she was going to try to kiss him again, and he jerked his head away.

"I'm sorry," he said, more forcefully this time. "I can't."

She lowered herself back on those bright red heels. "What's stopping you? You shouldn't feel guilty on my behalf."

"It's not on your behalf."

"Then what?"

For a long second, he didn't say anything. He was not one to bare his soul to strangers. It had taken him a long time to open up to Anna, with her soft understanding.

It was Anna who spurred him on now, Anna who lived in every cell of his body. Anna, and the kindness in this woman's eyes who stood before him now, in her sultry scarlet dress and those killer red shoes.

"There's someone special in my life," he said.

"I see," said he woman. Her tone was neutral. "Is she here with you tonight?"

"No," he said, and admitting it out loud was like a stake straight through the heart. "No, she's not here with me tonight."

"Where is she?"

It was an impertinence to ask, but it seemed that the floodgates had been opened. Months of bottling it all up, of repeating in a monotone to his friends that he was fine, that he was coping, and it was all undone in a moment with a stranger.

"She's overseas. We're not together anymore, but I'm not ready to move on." Even if she was. Her arms around the unfamiliar man flashed through his mind, a searing pain behind his eyes.

"She shouldn't control the brokenness of your heart."

"You're harbouring under the wrong assumption. I broke my own heart. I was the one who fucked up, not her. I want her to be happy, but I won't be." He came back to himself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't swear like that."

"It's okay. Maybe you're not ready to move on now, but it doesn't mean you never will be."

"I love her," he said forcefully. "I know my heart now, and I know what she's done to it. It's hers. I'm sure you're a lovely woman, but I can't cheat my own heart."

The way she was staring at him was rather disconcerting. He couldn't hold her gaze.

Finally, she said, "I admire you. Not every man would resist the temptation when it was offered on a plate, not even those who claim to be in love. I hope she knew how lucky she was to have you."

"I was the lucky one," he muttered, not sure if she could hear him. He gulped down the remainder of his drink and banged the empty glass down on the bar with a dull clunk. He couldn't stay here any longer. It was uncomfortable enough without this added element between them. He couldn't stay making small talk. If he was going to feel miserable, it needed to be in solitude. He cursed Robert for ever twisting his arm in the first place. And, really, how were they supposed to get past this elephant in the room?

He had to get away.

"I need a fag," he said.

"You smoke?" She sounded shocked now. It was a little strange, but he shrugged it off.

"I almost stopped a few months ago," he said. "I got it down to a couple of sneaky ones every few days. But I'm afraid I started again when my relationship broke down. Bad for my health, I know, but at least I don't lose my faculties any more than I have done."

She didn't laugh. It hadn't been a very funny joke. He murmured his excuse and stood.

"I can come with you, if you'd like."

He looked down at the little he could see of her and hoped that his smile was polite. "There's no need. It's cold outside."

She nodded, and he was glad that she'd taken the hint. He picked up his hat and cane. While he was having his cigarette, he could call a cab and make his escape.

"It was nice to meet you," he told her.

"Likewise. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Perhaps," he said non-commitally. Unless she remembered him in future, it was unlikely that he'd see her again.

His escape from the party proved successful. Once home, he collapsed onto his bed, mentally exhausted by his evening. The idea that a woman had made a pass at him still left him hollow. It was the only proof he needed that he'd spoken the complete truth: there could be no other woman for him now. He was head over heels in love with Anna, and nothing could tempt him from her, even if it was futile. Even if it was his own blind, stupid fault.

He sat up enough to remove his shirt and wriggle out of his trousers. Then he collapsed back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. For the second night running, he dreamed of Anna, and of her building a life with a man who wasn't him.

* * *

He was woken the next morning by insistent knocking on the door. He blinked his eyes open blearily, peering out at the streaming sunlight that poured in through the open curtains. He pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes. A groggy look at the clock told him that it was just gone eight. Unusual for him to still be abed, especially since he had no incentive for remaining nowadays, but even by his standards this was ridiculously early for visitors. John had half a mind to roll back over and ignore it, but the knocking became even louder. Swearing, he pushed himself up and fumbled for his trousers. He snatched a t-shirt from the drawer and limped out of the room. The hammering on his door wasn't ceasing.

"Bloody hell," he muttered angrily, before shouting, "Coming!"

He retrieved the key and jammed it in the lock, gearing himself up for a few choice words. He yanked the door open.

And stopped short.

For a full moment, he almost didn't recognise her.

And then reality crashed down around him. He rarely used his cane in the house, and he wished he had it then as his knees buckled. Grabbing for the doorframe to steady himself, he gawped at the most precious sight of all before him.

Anna. Anna, different, but the same. _Anna._

Long seconds passed without him uttering a word. It seemed that he'd lost his voice for good. She'd changed some, in her months in America. She was tanned, which made her blue eyes burn brighter. He thought she'd put a little weight on too; her curves seemed to have filled. It suited her.

The biggest change was her hair. The length remained, but gone was the blonde. Now she was a soft caramel.

"You've changed your hair," was the only thing he could think to say.

She touched the ends self-consciously. "Warm Copper Gold. What do you think?"

"It's nice," he said automatically. It was strange, seeing Anna with hair that wasn't her usual pretty blonde, but he wasn't lying. Anna would look lovely however, whatever, whenever.

"It's not here to stay," she said. "It's a wash out one. In six to eight washes I'll be back to the usual. Can I come in?"

"What are you doing here?" he blurted stupidly. He cringed internally. Of all the greetings he could have given her…

"Can we talk inside?" she deferred. "I'd rather not have an audience. I see Mrs. Massey hasn't changed a bit."

He glanced over her shoulder to find the elderly woman peeking through her nets. She ducked away when their eyes met, only to return the next moment. He exhaled.

"Come on in," he said, holding the door open for her. She ducked underneath, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was all he could do to resist the temptation to close his eyes and bury his nose against her, as he might have in the past. _Before._

She bent down to remove her shoes.

He froze.

They were red shoes. High heeled and sparkly, dramatically over the top.

The same shoes from the party.

John was standing face to face with the mystery woman who had tried to seduce him.

Anna was staring at him, and he knew that she could read the realisation on his face. She reached out towards him.

"John—" she started.

"What the hell is going on!?" he said. It came out more of a snap than he'd intended.

"Can we go through to the sitting room?"

Her soft tone made him numb. All he could think about was the conversation that he'd had with the woman he'd assumed that he didn't know. Jesus Christ, he'd admitted his _love _for Anna. _To _her. In their brief relationship, he'd never uttered those words to her, not wanting to say too much too soon. He'd told himself that it was the best thing possible when they'd split.

Now he'd told her anyway, completely inadvertently.

"Shit," he muttered, slumping forward.

"Let's sit down," she encouraged.

His steps were heavy as he followed her into the front room. She made herself comfortable on the sofa as if she'd never been away. He sank into the armchair beside her. It was safer that way.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated. He tried to soften his tone, but it still came out harsh. Defensive. Perhaps he had a right to be. She'd humiliated him last night, toyed with him, made him spill the deepest secrets in his heart. What had given her the right? He would never have done something like that to her. It was wrong.

Anna looked surprisingly cool for a woman who had tricked him into believing that she was someone else so that he'd spill the beans about his feelings to her.

"I'm here because Mary invited me," she said. "I love the Crawleys' parties, and I managed to square the time off at work, so I thought why not. I keep in touch with Mary."

Was that a dig at him, and the way he had severed all contact with her? Whatever it was, it did little to help his fraying temper.

"You shouldn't have come," he said shortly.

"Why not?" she said calmly. "I have as much right to be there as you, as Mary's guest. As far as you were concerned, we weren't on speaking terms, so what right did you have to know?"

He knew that she'd defeated him there. What right _did _he have?

Then again, did he deserve to be played with, like a wily cat might slap a frightened mouse around?

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he said tiredly, "That may be so, but it doesn't mean you should drop by my house. What are you doing here, Anna?"

"I should have thought that that was obvious," she said. "I'm here to talk to you."

"We said everything we needed to say when we parted."

"In light of new information, I'd say I have to disagree."

John gritted his teeth, folding his arms across his chest. "Have it your way, for all the good it will do you."

"I intend to." If she found his attitude irritating, she didn't show it, sitting back in her seat as if this was simply another relaxing day. Her eyes lingered over him, as though she was a dying woman drinking from the fountain of youth. "You're looking well."

With the stubble that had started to grow in overnight alongside the rumpled clothes and unruly hair, John doubted it very much. But Anna…she was a vision, more beautiful than he'd ever hoped to recall in his mind.

"Thank you," he said, grudgingly. He softened slightly, wanting her to hear the sincerity in his words despite his wounded pride. "So do you. America suits you."

It had to, if she could look as happy as she had in the picture he'd seen, already so content with another man.

"It does," she conceded. "I'm glad I took the opportunity now. I miss home like mad, but I've learned so much these past few months, things that will serve me better for the rest of my life. And New York is incredible. It really is the city that never sleeps. I've been out for ice cream at three in the morning, and the streets are still as packed as they are here in the day."

"I'm glad you've settled in well."

"It took some time. But I've had a lot of support and understanding from everyone."

He tortured himself with her beaming face from the photograph. He was sure that the man had certainly been eager to show her support and understanding.

"That's good," he managed, then heaved a heavy sigh. This was too much. Too painful, too raw. He'd been surviving day by day by suppressing his memories of the times they'd shared. Seeing her in the flesh was bringing them all back, breaking down his weak barriers like a merciless monsoon. When he blinked, he caught flashes of his previous life: of the two of them holding hands as they walked through the village; of her loud peals of laughter as they'd joked together; her head in the crook of his neck as they curled up on the sofa; the hot silk of her body as they moved as one; the sweet weight of her as they curled up to sleep. Each memory was as vivid as the day it had been made, and it tortured him all over again. "Look, Anna. I hate to be rude, but can we hurry this along? I have some things I need to get done today."

"Of course," she said. His words had been rude, but she didn't flinch.

John took a deep breath and braced himself for what was to come.

"Last night," she began.

"I said those things because I thought I was being prepositioned by a stranger. I wasn't in the mood for sex, so I said what I said." Even to his own ears, the answer sounded perfunctory. Desperate.

"You said you loved me," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, because of the circumstances. How would you know what I felt? You were the one sneaky enough to change your hair colour and hide your face behind a mask so I wouldn't recognise you. Don't read what you want into what I said because it suits you."

"Don't give me that. You could just have easily lied and said you had a girlfriend. You didn't. You told the truth. And how else would I have got you to talk to me? You wouldn't have given me the time of day if I hadn't tricked you."

He huffed, angry at himself for being so stupid, angry at her for making a fool out of him. He should never had said those things. If he'd had the slightest inkling that she was back, he wouldn't have left the house. Then none of this would have happened.

"None of it matters, anyway," he said. Was he trying to convince her, or himself? "What's done is done. We can't change the past. We're in separate worlds."

"I don't agree. Knowing that you love me changes everything."

"In what way?"

She shrugged lightly. "I know I have something to fight for now."

John snorted. "I should think that my feelings wouldn't have the slightest impact on you."

"Why do you say that? That makes me sound heartless."

"Things have changed. You're not the same."

"What do you mean?"

"You've moved on. You have a new bloke now." he managed to grind out. Saying the words to her cut through his soul.

But Anna didn't lower her eyes, or look horrified that he could have found out her sordid secret.

"The picture with Brody," she said simply.

John's lip wanted to curl reflexively in disgust, but he fought down the urge. Brody. What a bloody name.

"Robert showed it to me," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. Uncaring.

"I know."

"What? What do you mean, you know?"

"Mary told me that you'd seen it."

"So you're going to tell me that that was part of an elaborate scheme, too?" he said, somewhat bitterly.

"I wanted to know some things, yes."

"Like what?"

"Like what you'd think of me having a new boyfriend. What it would do to you."

"So you were toying with me?" John had never lost his temper with Anna before, but Vera had toyed maliciously with him over and over again, and even though years had passed, the psychological scars had not faded. That Anna could knowingly do that to him…

But her face was void of remorse as she faced him. "I wasn't toying. But I needed to know if it was worth facing you again. If you didn't care anymore, then I wasn't going to come chasing you down and making things uncomfortable for the both of us. If you did…well, I knew there was still a chance for us."

"So this Brody bloke, he was just a happy distraction for a few weeks? You're just going to dump his arse?" Something about this whole situation felt off to him. Anna had never been a callous person before. He couldn't see her dumping someone simply because she'd received a better offer. Then again, he'd never thought that she would be the kind of person who would start sleeping with someone else to get over a broken heart.

But if she had, it was down to him, he reminded himself forcefully. This was his fault. It only made him more agitated.

This time, Anna laughed. "Brody was never my boyfriend."

This caught him off-guard. "What?"

"He's a friend," she clarified. "A good friend, true. But definitely nothing more than that."

"But-but the caption said something about you not knowing what you would have done without him…"

"And I wouldn't. Brody was the one who helped me get the time off to come back to England, who booked my flights for me while I was running around like a woman possessed packing."

"So the picture…" he stumbled.

"Was just a picture," she finished. "Taken by Brody's girlfriend."

"His girlfriend," he echoed faintly.

"That's right. They've been together for five years and have a two year old daughter."

"Oh." Suddenly, John felt very stupid. The Anna that he'd known had been at odds with the Anna he had been fed in the last few days. He ought to have known better. He felt ashamed that he had doubted her so quickly, after the way she had cried when he'd sent her away.

It was as if Anna had read his mind. "You know, I ought to be insulted that you could think that of me when you knew what a good relationship we'd had with each other."

"A part of me didn't want to believe it," he said. "And then another part thought that I deserved it."

Her eyes softened. "Oh, John, you idiot. You don't deserve anything of the sort. Why do you think I'm here?"

"I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't be."

"I probably wouldn't have been if Mary had had her own way. She was adamant that I should forget about you and move on. She was very fond of telling me that there were plenty of hot Americans that I could sow my oats with."

He prickled uncomfortably at the idea of his friend's eldest daughter disapproving of him so much. Relations between them _had _been frostier since Anna's departure, and to know that Mary had advised Anna against ever seeing him again…

"But I couldn't do that. Because no matter how many beautiful Americans there are out there, there's only one Englishman-by-way-of-Ireland-and-Scotland who I care about." She shifted closer to the edge of the settee, reaching out until her fingers closed around his wrist. Sparks shot through him, and he couldn't fight the urge to close his eyes. They were soft, exactly how he had always remembered them. It was the first physical contact they'd had in four months, and the sheer intensity of it made tears spring behind his closed lids. God, he'd missed her.

"So you're still single?" he clarified, for his own benefit.

"Still single," she confirmed. "The thought of seeing someone else never even crossed my mind."

"I have to say, Robert did a bloody good job of convincing me that you'd moved on and that I should too. Was he part of your elaborate scheme too?" He wasn't too sure how he should feel about that. Robert was his best friend, and the idea that he could have tricked him without conscience didn't sit quite right with him—if someone was scheming against Robert, he didn't think he could stand by silently.

"Robert didn't know," said Anna. "Mary felt it best not to tell him. She said he's rubbish at keeping secrets, so she kept him in the dark. Anything he said was what he really believed was best at the time." She gave him a curious look. "What did he say?"

"Kept spouting that I needed to get out there again," he muttered.

"Seems like a typical man's way of thinking," said Anna cheerfully. "We all know that Robert thinks with a hurt ego rather than anything else."

"It was the last thing I needed. There's nothing I hate more than being prodded and prodded over something if I don't want to talk about it."

"I know," Anna soothed. Her tone had gone silkier, more intimate. John sensed the change at once. "That's the whole point. I know you better than anyone else." She took a deep breath. "Things were said when we parted, but I knew in my heart that you didn't mean them. And I was proved right."

He shook his head helplessly. "It doesn't change anything."

"It does," she said softly. "Because I know what you feel for me now. I _thought _I knew before, but now I truly do. You love me, John. You said it yourself last night."

"I told you: at the time I thought I was deterring someone who was trying to get me into bed."

"Don't lie. You said it because it was the truth. And that changes everything."

She rose now, towering above where he sat. He had to crane his neck back to take all of her in, trying not to notice the way that her jeans hugged her figure most becomingly. She toyed with the neck of her blouse while she sized him up, before bending to brace her hands against his shoulders. Christ, she was going to sit on his lap. He opened his mouth in alarmed protest, but he couldn't even form a word before she'd swung herself gracefully onto him, her bright blue eyes piercing through to his very soul.

"You love me," she said. "And God knows that I love you too, John. You hear me? _I love you too_."

Love. She loved him. The words resounded in his head as if she'd played them out on the church's bells. _She felt the same._

But his initial elation and joy at hearing those reassurances couldn't last for long. Harsh reality had never been far behind in his life.

Whether she loved him or not, it didn't change the facts. And those facts were that Anna May Smith was an American girl now, and he was still stuck here.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear you say those words," he said. "Especially when I acted like such a prick. But I don't see how anything good can come out of this."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

He gestured between them. "What are you expecting to happen from here? That we wait for a year before we embark on something more again?"

"Definitely not," she said. "I want to call you my boyfriend again. I know you're trying to say the noble thing in case someone else comes along to sweep me off my feet, but I can tell you categorically, they won't. You say that you won't feel for anyone else the way you feel about me, so why do you assume that it's any different for me, either?"

"Because it _is _different," he said. "Bloody hell, look at us. You're so young, so gorgeous. There's nothing about you that isn't attractive. And then you saddled yourself with me. Years older, already well past my prime. You can't deny that people used to whisper about us. And they were right."

She shook her head in frustration. "I'm not shallow, John. I don't care about looks. Heart, soul, all of that counts for so much more. And whether you believe it or not, I do find you very attractive. Please don't insult me with your silly self-doubts. I was proud to call you my boyfriend before. You've been an idiot, but there's still nothing that I long for more than telling people that I'm off the market and very happy."

"So you want a long distance relationship?" he ventured. "That won't be easy, either. People can't make it work a hundred miles apart, never mind thousands. It's not like I can hop on a plane and come and visit you every weekend."

"It'd be hard," she conceded. "But it wouldn't be harder than not attaching myself to you. There are things we can still do. We can Skype, and we can phone each other. The time difference is hardly ideal, but we'd find a way to figure it out." She hesitated, then pushed on. "The people running the scheme are very good to us. They understand how difficult it is to leave loved ones behind for so long. There's talk about an arrangement to bring loved ones over for a couple of weeks to break up the separation. Leah would get her mum to come over and Cara would ask her sister. Before yesterday, I would have begged Mary to come, but my heart would always have been crying out for you."

"Don't tell Mary that," he said dryly. "She hates to be second best, especially if being second best means passing up a chance to shop in New York City."

"I don't have a death wish. But a girl has needs. My needs can only be fulfilled by you."

John was sure that his ears had gone bright red. "Anna."

"What? Don't pretend that we wouldn't be spending the time together very happily reacquainting ourselves. I'd have to work in the week but I'd be all yours at the weekend and in the evenings. I suppose I would have to try to make the effort to show you around, but I'm not sure I'd manage it."

He shook his head wondrously. She was already speaking as if they were back together. As if they truly had a viable future.

"It would make it easier to bear," she finished. "It would be horrible to part again, but it would break up the stretch. Make it seem less never-ending. And, well, we've already done four months apart. That only leaves another eight. We're already nearly halfway there."

That was true. Still, he owed it to her to be honest with her. Truly honest this time.

"The reason I did what I did last time was because I was afraid that I would hold you back. I didn't want you to waste all your time worrying about me and missing me when you could be out there having a good time and focusing on your development. I would rather sacrifice myself if I knew that it meant you were achieving all the things I know you are capable of doing."

"And how well do you think breaking up with me did on me not worrying about you or missing you?" she countered. "If I knew I had you waiting for me, it _would_ make me more content. I'd be able to enjoy the experience more, and I'd be able to focus on what I needed to do. I'd still miss you like mad, but having that security would make everything bearable. I love you, John. Please, let's not be on different pages anymore. We're strong enough to handle this, but only if we're together."

This would be a huge step into the unknown. His only experience of a proper relationship came from the long years he had wasted on Vera, and they had hardly been healthy. It hadn't even happened yet, but the mere thought of her being on the other side of the world without him being there to sleep beside her at night or wake up to her sleeping face made him feel very lonely.

But she was right. Even the pain of being with-her-but-not-with-her had to be better than letting her go forever. He wouldn't consider himself to be the right man for her, but if she truly believed that, what was he gaining by denying them both? If she was confident in her feelings, why would he push her away, possibly into another man's arms? With both of them having mutual friends in the Crawleys, it was inevitable that he would find out about her life. He'd already had a brief taste of what it would be like to think that she had another man. What if the boyfriend turned into a husband? What if the solo pictures became pictures of her cradling another man's child in her arms?

He had a simple choice before him. To risk his heart now, or to lose it forever.

Anna's eyebrows were raised in expectation.

"Well?" she said. "What do you say?"

Ultimately, the choice was easy.

"I say," he breathed, "yes. Yes, let's give it a go."

Her answering smile was a salve, a surgeon's healing stitch. He had never seen an expression quite like that one on her face in all the time he had known her.

"Thank God," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. His skin sparked into life where she brushed against him with her fingertips. His breath caught in his throat as she leaned in close.

There was a suspended moment where the earth stood still. All that existed was the look in Anna's eyes, the feel of her hand on the back of his neck, the weight of her body against his. The intensity of it all was enough to make his head buzz.

Then her mouth met his, and the world imploded.

Four months he had been without this, and no memory could ever compare to the reality. Her soft mouth caressed his, her teeth tugging lightly on his bottom lip and making his skin prickle with electricity. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly closed to savour the moment, his arms snaking around her waist and holding her close to him. No words could ever do justice to this.

It didn't take long before the passion began to overtake them. Anna took a deep, shuddering gasp, pressing against him harder, tugging insistently on his hair as she angled his face further up towards her. He was happy to oblige. He wanted to be lost in her. His body was on fire. When she shifted, coming into full, visceral contact with him, he groaned breathlessly. His body was highly sensitive, and the slightest touch was setting it alight.

"Stop," he managed between kisses.

"Why?" she panted.

He wriggled shyly when she pressed harder onto him. Her eyes widened when she felt his full arousal, but it wasn't shock in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he still rushed to apologise.

"John, don't be sorry. Believe me, it's not an insult to know that the man you love wants you that way."

"Still, this is all so overwhelming. We've only just made a decision about what we should do in the future. I don't want you to think that we need to rush into anything else today. We don't. I can control myself, even if my body is at odds with me."

"Always such the gentleman," she said, then trailed a finger seductively over his cheek. "The way I see it, why would we want to waste a single moment of our time together? We're going to be parted again soon enough, so we should make the most of the time we have in any way we want. It's not like we've never been together before. We know each other very well. And, really, this is like the making up after a very long breaking up. Isn't it our duty to have mind-blowing make up sex?"

Christ, there was nothing that he'd like more than that. Every fibre of his being ached for the long ago echo of those times together. They'd been well-suited in that department, both insatiable.

Anna could evidently sense that she was winning—not a difficult feat when most of the blood in his body was rushing south to stimulate his other brain. She engaged his mouth in another searing kiss, undulating against him in the most unholy of ways.

"We're two consenting adults," she murmured. "Two adults in love. There's nothing shameful about sharing that with each other. We both need it. Please, John."

He could never deny her anything.

"You're sure?" he clarified.

"I'm sure," she promised. "Come here."

From there, it was a blur of motion. They exchanged kisses and caresses as they stood, stumbled and staggered their way to the staircase, laughed breathlessly between heated kisses as they somehow made their way upstairs. There was only one destination in mind.

At his bedroom, she pulled him to her, kicking the door closed behind her with her heel. He was drowning in her, in the heat of her mouth, in the insistence of her fingers as she tugged at his t-shirt. Goosebumps rose on his body as she raked her nails over his chest, rubbed her cheek against the hair that grew there.

"I have missed you so much," she whispered, and even in those tones he could hear the raw emotion. He clung to her tighter as her hands went to the button on his trousers. They fell, and his boxers soon followed.

And then it was his turn.

His hands trembled as he helped her out of her clothes. Her breathy sound as he slid her blouse from her shoulders made him instantly hard, but he couldn't be embarrassed. His Anna had never allowed him to feel embarrassed about anything. She drew his face back to hers, and it was a mess of fumbling with her skirt and pulling off her tights—he heard them rip in some distant part of his brain—and hooking his fingers into the delicate waistband of her crimson knickers.

He couldn't stop himself from running his hands all over her. It was probably like the pawing of an eager puppy, but she didn't seem to mind. He stroked her curves, closing his eyes as he mapped out the familiar path in his mind, almost undone with the stark contrast of her pebbled nipple and supple breast. She pushed at him until his knees hit the bed, and she crawled over him, pinning him to the mattress with the silky weight of her body. His groan was lost in her mouth, white spots exploding behind his eyes as her fingers ventured lower.

With the sunlight splashed over their bodies, they finally found their way home. Together.

* * *

Their breaths mingled hotly as the perfect pinnacle of pleasure fell over them. Anna went limp against him, finally releasing the iron grip she'd had on his forearms; his hands had been resting on her hips, urging her on, and they'd been the ideal resting place. Slumping against him, she nestled against him for a moment before pushing away with a reluctant groan.

"Jesus, it's too hot," she groused, shoving the duvet away.

John arched a lazy eyebrow at her as she fought to get on top of the quilt. "You've been in the American heat, and you're calling _England _hot?"

She shot him a cheeky smirk. "England _is _hot when you've been going at it like rabbits."

If John was honest with himself, he _was _rather hot too. Then again, he'd always relished this kind of heat, the musk of lovemaking settling heavily, their sweat mingling.

"You know, in America, I have air conditioning in my apartment," Anna said. He moved to lie beside her. She made quite a delicious sight. "You have no idea how amazing it is to lie there naked when you're all hot and sweaty and have the cold air blowing over you."

John poked her side. "So you've had a lot of experience of being hot and sweaty and naked in your apartment in America?"

"Oh, silly beggar," she grumbled, and he leaned over to crush his mouth to hers. She looked beautiful next to him, all tanned and lithe. Usually she was the colour of milk, but the sun suited her. She'd been kissed all over, and the distinct tan line where her undergarments covered her was endearing. He leaned down to press a kiss to the underside of her breasts. She wriggled, giggling, tugging him back up to her mouth, vining her leg over his hip in the most tempting way. He growled. It seemed that four long months without her had left his body primed. He still couldn't get used to the idea of her having hair the colour of caramel, but she'd said that it would be back to normal soon enough. He was glad. Of course, it was her hair and she was free to do what she wanted with it, but he'd always loved the way that it had tumbled down her back like a golden waterfall, and how it had looked like spun gold as he'd sifted his fingers through it. He'd love her any way, but he adored her natural colour. The fact that she'd dyed it purely to fool him could make him smile now that everything was on the mend.

"What would you have done if I'd accepted your offer of a night of passion?" he mused, toying idly with the strands of her hair.

"Given you the shock of your life, probably," she giggled.

"No, I'm being serious. Would it have put you off if I'd been sleeping with other women?"

"It would have been hard to swallow, yes. But if we weren't together, I could hardly expect you to stay faithful. It's only cheating if we're in a relationship. It might have taken a bit of time, but I think I could have got over it. Why, is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"God, no!" he said hurriedly. "I could never have done that. You know why. It was just a silly pillow thought."

"What would you have done if I'd slept with someone else?"

"I could forgive you anything," he confessed. "I won't pretend that I would have found it easy either. I'd be very jealous. But I could never hold anything against you. Why, what are _you _trying to tell me?"

"As if I could shag someone else when my heart was always with you," she tutted. "Now, stop saying daft things and kiss me again."

He was more than happy to comply, rolling over to cover her completely.

They tussled and teased for a while until Anna eased back. He was embarrassed by the whining sound that escaped his throat, but she only smiled gently and ruffled her fingers through his hair. Lying nose to nose with her in the weak sunlight was the purest thing he had ever known. And now they knew where they were headed. Down the same path, hand in hand. Never to be parted emotionally again.

Even with that assurance, he felt uneasy. Not with her. Not after what she'd done and sacrificed for him. No, he was uneasy with his own actions, was well aware that he hadn't apologised for what he'd put her through over the last few months. He had so much to atone for. For as long as he lived, he would probably never forgive himself for this. But he could try to make amends. That process started right now.

Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, scuffing his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone as he moved to grasp her chin gently between thumb and forefinger. Anna, evidently noticing the change in his demeanour, gave him an encouraging smile.

"All right," she said, "what's wrong? Please don't tell me that you're regretting what we've just done. Because if you are, I swear to God I'll give you a smack. It was good, John. It was exactly what I needed."

"No, it's not that," he hastened to explain. He leaned in to give her a kiss of reassurance, lingering for a moment to gather his thoughts. He sighed when he pulled away, focusing his gaze on a point just behind her beautiful tanned shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Anna scrunched her nose. "Sorry? For what?"

"For how things went between us. I pushed you away and made you cry. I put you through hell by not answering your phone calls or texts. I probably made you feel like utter shit. You were already going to be having a tough time of it adjusting to a whole new life abroad, and I did nothing to make that transition easier for you. I should have been a better man."

"I don't want you to be a better man. I just want you to be yourself, mistakes and all. I won't pretend that you didn't hurt me. You hurt me more than anyone else has ever done. But that's because I love you so much. You were never just a casual relationship to me. I've loved you for so long, John. Almost from the very beginning of our friendship. It almost killed me when you broke it off. I'd convinced myself that maybe you felt something more, only to be cut down."

He made a noise of protest, but she covered it with a gentle kiss, resting her chin against his chest as she gazed at him.

"It's all right," she murmured.

"It's not all right. I hated myself for speaking to you like that, you know. But I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I could live with hating myself for the rest of my life if it meant that you could have the good life that you deserve."

"Always so selfless," she said. "It's so bloody frustrating." But her tone was affectionate, and so was the way she pressed herself against him. "Did it really never occur to you that we could make each other happy?"

"Not really," he confessed. "Distance…it makes things so much harder."

"But not impossible," she reminded him. "Thousands have done it before. When we feel the way we do about each other, why can't we do it too?"

The months stretching before him without her frightened him. When he'd had to move on without her, he'd coped—badly. How would he do it knowing that they loved each other and couldn't be together?

Anna shuffled further up the bed, cupping his face in the palm of her hand. "Look at me, John."

He did.

"We're going to be all right," she said. "I promise. If you love someone, you can make it work."

"And I do love you, so much." It was a catharsis to say so, purifying his soul. He loved her, had always loved her, would always love her. His very own angel, his saviour. He wrapped his arms around her and she bent in closer until their breaths mixed, setting every nerve tingling.

"I love you," he murmured again.

She grinned, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Do you know how much of a turn on it is to hear you say that?"

"A turn on?"

"Oh, God, yes."

"Well, in that case…"

There would be time for more talking later, when things were less fresh and overwhelming. For now, at least, they could focus on the little things.

Things that were becoming more demanding by the moment.

She squealed as he rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress. He moved his lips to her ear, breathing those three words over in a rasping, distorted loop as she accepted him into her body once more.

* * *

It felt hedonistic to spend the day in bed. But that was what they did, rising only to quell their appetites and to shower, a task that was completed together and didn't stay innocent for long.

But lazy Sundays always passed quickly, and all too soon it was time for Anna to leave. She stood on his doorstep, shivering lightly in the cool evening breeze.

"This bleedin' weather is one thing I don't miss," she told him, her teeth clattering in her head.

"Let me get you a jacket." John retrieved one from the closet and wrapped it around her shoulders. She held it tight to her, managing a smile. He bent down and pecked her lips, and she squeezed him tight.

And he couldn't let her go. Not tonight. Not after everything they'd gone through today.

"Stay," he requested hoarsely. "Collect your stuff from your hotel and come back here."

"Are you sure?"

He looked at her, standing there in the mismatch of casual attire and dressy red shoes, so utterly flawless to him. "I'm sure. You're here for a few days. Let's not waste a single minute of them. The next eight months are going to be like hell, and I don't want that hell to start a second earlier than it has to."

Her response was to squeeze him harder than ever before. "Yes. I want that too. You have no idea."

"Good," he said. "Let me get my car keys. I'll drive us."

She nodded eagerly, hopping impatiently on the spot. He grabbed them from the bowl and pressed the button to unlock the car.

"Go and get in while I lock up," he said. "Get out of the cold."

She nodded gratefully, and he watched her walk away, her shoes flashing in the light from the streetlamps.

It was difficult to process the last twenty four hours. Twenty four hours ago, he'd been a forlorn mess at a bar, chatting awkwardly with a mysterious lady in red. Now, he was grinning giddily as he slid into the car and leaned across to kiss her, in full view of Mrs. Massey, who was sure to know that their romance was very much back on again. His future had exploded in a medley of bright colours. And it was all down to her.

Thank God for his beautiful Anna. Thank God for his very own lady in red.


End file.
